


The Parasite - Female Version

by Kompera



Category: Original Work
Genre: Belly Expansion, Belly Kink, Breast Expansion, BreastExpansion, Force Feeding, Forcedfeeding, Forcefeeding, Pregnancy, Stuffing, Unbirth, Unbirthing, Weight Gain, bellyexpansion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:28:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22002070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kompera/pseuds/Kompera
Summary: Following infection by an alien parasite, Chloe begins to hear a commanding voice in her head that demands her to stuff her face with food, massage various body parts, insert edibles into her loins, and partake in other unusual activities. Chloe’s belly grows and grows as the parasite swells in consequence. Chloe’s efforts to balance her busy work life with the frightening voice of the parasite proves to be disastrous.Contains:Belly expansion, breast expansion, possible egg-laying, and more.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

Chloe was a thin girl of twenty-six. Her long wavy hair went down to the small of her back. It was presently pulled back in a messy bun as she pulled her car into the vacant four-car driveway and lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head.  
  
Since she was a small child, Chloe had spent her weekends at her family’s lake house just outside of the city.  
  
Through decades had passed, and the rest of Chloe’s family rarely managed to uphold the tradition, Chloe still made sure to venture out to the country every weekend, now enjoying the solitary peace of life by the lake. In some ways, it had become her method of decompressing after a long week of work.  
  
It was one such weekend. Chloe unlocked the door to the large cabin and stepped through the threshold._ All to myself._ She smiled as she lowered her duffle bag to the ground beside her.  
  
Wasting no time, Chloe dug out her bathing suit. She wanted to savor as much of the morning sunlight that the first day of the weekend had to offer.  
  
Chloe walked into a bathroom and quickly changed into a bright red string bikini. She grabbed her sunblock and cellphone before leaving the house and heading straight for the lake.  
  
The grass was green as ever, the sun beaming, and the property vacant. It was hot but slightly breezy. The conditions couldn’t have been more perfect for the swim.  
  
But as Chloe lowered her things and walked to the edge of the lake, she was stunned that the ordinarily blue water was extremely dark and had taken on an almost…purplish hue. She blinked a few times, wondering whether her eyes were deceiving her. Chloe looked around. _Sky—blue,_ she catalogued. _Grass—green. Trees—brown._ Nothing else seemed amiss.  
  
Chloe could not imagine how the lake water could have undergone such a significant and unnatural change since the last time Chloe had taken a dip, only six days before. There were no signs of pollutants. It almost seemed chemical. But who would dump chemicals into her family’s lake?  
  
With a sigh, Chloe settled down on the grass, deciding against going into the water that day. She would simply have to wait until next weekend, and see if the water returned to normal. If not, she would consult her father on the matter. But as things were, swimming didn’t seem like a safe idea.  
  
So Chloe sat there in the grass, and continued to gaze at the still water. There was something foreboding about it. And yet its allure seemed to grow the longer she sat there staring.  
  
Lightly shaking her head, Chloe pulled her sunglasses back down over her eyes. She stood, and stripped off her string bikini. _Sunbathing then,_ she decided, before laying herself back down on the grass.  
  
It was not the way Chloe had wanted to end her stressful work week, but it would just have to do. A contented smile spread over her face as the sun’s rays seemed to permeate her frigid body. Chloe stretched herself out one more time, and promptly fell asleep.  
  
Chloe awoke late in the afternoon, disappointed to realize that the air had chilled, and the sun was much lower in the sky. She lifted up her cellphone and gave it a glance, to notice that she had numerous new messages from her job. It would undoubtedly be a long night.  
  
_No rest for the weary,_ Chloe mused with a sigh. She got up and threw one more glance at the lake. It was still purple, now glowing brightly under the low sun. The sight of it was truly bizarre, and Chloe could not help taking moments to stare at it.  
  
Chloe stepped a bit closer to the lake, lifting her phone, and taking a few pictures that she intended to send to her father. She could probably send some of the photos to the local environmental protection agency—maybe get the water tested. Just as Chloe snapped the last picture, her phone managed to slip on some unabsorbed sunblock in her palm. Chloe gasped as her phone fell from her hands and dropped onto the muddy banks, less than an inch from the water.  
  
Without hesitation, Chloe began to carefully climb down on the muddy bank, her right big toe hitting the purple water as she reached for her phone. Suddenly her foot slipped, her whole body becoming unbalanced, and Chloe dropped into the water, fully submerged.  
  
It may have only been seconds but it felt like minutes that she thrashed beneath the ice cold water, unable to distinguish up from down. Her loins tingled strangely—it felt like something was almost…_pushing _through her sensitive lips. As Chloe shuddered, she involuntarily took in some gulps of water and nearly drowned, when her hand suddenly connected with mud.  
  
Chloe pulled herself up onto the river bank. She looked around for her phone, but it was long gone. She climbed back onto the grass, coughing and gasping. Strangely, her loins were still tingling, and now seeping her sleek juices along the insides of her thighs.  
  
Shaking water from her hair, Chloe grabbed up her bathing suit and headed back into the house. She quickly rinsed herself off in the shower. And exhausted, she went to bed.  
  
Though Chloe tried her best to get some sleep, most of her night was spent tossing and turning, her insides burning. Her face was flushed, and she was drenched in sweat. The times that Chloe did manage to doze, she had dreams of pain, and darkness, and a receding, pleasurable sensation, always just beyond her reach. But before she could chase it, she would awaken again, gasping, sweating, her insides seeming to throb.  
  
In the early hours of the morning, the varying sensations suddenly stopped. Utterly exhausted by that point, Chloe dropped down into a dreamless slumber.  
  
-  
  
The next morning, Chloe trudged into the kitchen. “Eugh.” She felt as though she had been hit by a truck. She wandered over to the fridge. She had it regularly stocked by a grocery delivery service. As Chloe lifted a carton of milk, she glanced out the window to the lake, and was surprised to see that the small body of water had returned to its rich color of greenish blue. _What the hell?_ she thought, relieved but also somewhat appalled. What was going on? Was she losing her mind?  
  
Opening the milk carton, Chloe brought it to her lips. She took several generous gulps, and had emptied half of the carton before she placed it down on the kitchen counter with a sigh and a wipe of her mouth.  
  
**_More,_** someone growled.  
  
Chloe looked around, startled. The voice had come from nowhere, and yet it seemed to have blossomed from within her head. “Hello?” she called in uncertainty. Her heart was pounding, she had no phone, and there was possibly a trespasser in her family’s cabin. It was either that, or she truly had gone insane.  
  
Chloe fumbled in a drawer for something to arm herself with, but the sharpest thing she could find was a fork.  
  
**_More,_** the voice repeated.  
  
Now Chloe was almost certain of it. The voice had come from inside her head. She heard the fork clatter to the floor. “W-what?” she stammered. _Dammit_. She shouldn’t respond!_ I need to go, _Chloe decided. _I need to get help._ She started for the living room to get her keys and her duffle bag.  
  
But the moment Chloe stepped out of the kitchen, she was consumed by an icy chill that couldn’t have been mental. It left her shivering so violently that she had to grip onto the wall. Her head throbbed as the voice spoke again.  
  
**_More…consume…more!_** it boomed. It seemed neither male nor female, but inhuman…feral.  
  
Chloe staggered back into the kitchen, and the sensation of coldness began to recede. She didn’t understand what the voice wanted, but something brought her back to the milk carton on the kitchen counter. With a trembling hand, she lifted it to her lips, and drank hurriedly, small trickles of the white liquid trailing down either side of her chin. She drank and drank, until she had emptied the carton, and her stomach felt full to bursting. She then lowered the carton, and waited in silence for further instruction. However the voice in her head said no more.  
  
-  
  
Chloe didn’t trust herself to take the hour-long drive back to the city. Though it was only her first day in the cabin, there were too many eerie things going on for her to feel comfortable staying for the rest of the weekend. She waited impatiently for her cab to arrive, after which she hurriedly climbed into the back seat. She dropped her head and closed her eyes, intending to leave the purple lake, restless sleep, and disembodied voices behind. She would have to think long and hard before she ventured back to the country. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more of my stories, visit my **[DeviantArt gallery](https://www.deviantart.com/komperaklause).**
> 
> ** [Story Schedule](https://www.deviantart.com/komperaklause/journal/Story-Access-Schedule-572949651) **


	2. Chapter 2

That night, safely tucked into her bed, Chloe tossed and turned in her sleep over several hours, until she was roused entirely awake.   
  
She sat up in bed, restless, and panting, but not sure what had awoken her. She felt as though she’d had a dream that she couldn’t quite remember. And that’s when she heard it.   
  
**Eat…**   
  
Chloe shifted uncomfortably. It was that voice in her head again. She had been certain that she had left it behind, at the lake house. She tried to shake it off. Maybe she was _still _dreaming. Chloe lowered herself back down on the bed, and squeezed her eyes shut.   
  
But the voice persisted.   
  
**Eat…** it commanded, somewhat louder in volume than it had been before.   
  
Chloe squirmed and tried to ignore it. She gripped at her pillow and squeezed it against her ears.   
  
**_Eat!_** the voice boomed, growing yet louder. Chloe could feel herself starting to get a headache.   
  
Why did the voice want her to eat? Why was she hearing voices at all? But the longer she tried to ignore it, the more aggressive the voice seemed to become. Soon a coldness washed over her, and her body started shivering. Worse, the pain in her skull had exacerbated to the sensation of an ice pick stabbing into her brain.   
  
The command was constant now, a rhythmic booming, that made Chloe cringe every time it shot through her. Somehow she climbed out of bed and staggered down to her kitchen. She opened her fridge and blindly began to stuff food into her mouth, until slowly, but surely, the voice began to calm down.   
  
The voice continued to urge her to eat, but less abrasively now. It encouraged her every moment or so, an order for her not to stop just yet.   
  
Chloe worked her way through packages of cold cuts, some leftover pasta and chicken thighs, a package of sliced bread, and half a gallon of egg nog she had from the holidays. She felt rushes of warmth as she ate, and it felt good. It felt _right _to follow the commands of the voice, and this unnerved her to some extent.   
  
Finally, when even the whispered orders of the voice had ceased, Chloe slowed her steady process of gorging herself. She gulped down the last piece of cold salami in her mouth, before returning what remained in the package to the fridge door, and waited.   
  
The voice was gone.   
  
_Maybe I’m going mad_, Chloe thought in uncertainty. That would be the most logical explanation for this. Feeling unnerved, she lowered herself back into her bed—wincing—her stomach aching from the abuse. Before she could not deliberate on the matter any longer, her combined fullness and exhaustion ensuring that she promptly fell asleep.   
  
When Chloe awoke the next morning, she almost thought it had all been a dream. But the continued tightness in her belly didn’t seem to contradict this suspicion. Rather than risking it, Chloe packed her large purse with copious amounts of snacks, before getting washed, dressed, and heading off to her job at the local bank.   
  
It was close to noon when the first faint command made itself known. **Eat…**   
  
Chloe’s eyes shot wide open. Rather than risking things escalating, as they had the night before, she quickly rummaged in her purse and stuffed an oreo cookie into her mouth. Whenever Chloe was certain that she was neither being scrutinized by her boss, coworkers, nor customers, she stuffed her mouth with more cookies, crackers, and chips. Her usually flat stomach felt uncomfortably bloated in her fitted pencil skirt, but she felt as though she had no choice but to continue to eat, as the voice wanted, at least until the end of the work day.   
  
Things proceeded as such over the rest of the week. Chloe stocked up on groceries, and found herself climbing out of bed at least once a night to indulge the commands of the voice before it got too aggressive. The orders were always the same. “Eat” or “consume” being the extent of its vocabulary. And heeding it, Chloe managed to get by, except, she noticed that her skirts had tightened, her blouses now stretched against her usually thin body.   
  
She was gaining weight. Her hips were wider, her breasts were fuller—and if this was the extent of it, Chloe would have been entirely content. However, more of the food she ate seemed to surge directly to her stomach. It wasn’t horrible. She was just getting slightly…rounder. All things considered, she could have done to put on some weight. And if the alternative was being committed, Chloe would happily tolerate it, and ignore the more _demanding _problem.   
  
The voice’s vocabulary seemed to be increasing. Now it said “eat” and “consume” in addition to “feed,” “more,” and “faster.”   
  
It said “more,” quite often now, and never seemed to be sated. Chloe tried to snack slowly and discreetly, stuffing a piece of pastry into her mouth at least ever few minutes.   
  
One day, Chloe had attempted to indulge the voice only with vegetables, and things had not gone well. No matter how many cucumber slices she ate, the voice grew louder, until Chloe’s head was throbbing, her body shaking violently, and she’d had no choice but to insist on an abrupt break from work, hurry off to the nearby drugstore, and almost blindly purchase several packages of chips.   
  
Her breasts were steadily getting fuller, having plumpened to C-cups by then. Her bottom was swelling as well, tightly stretching her pencil skirts. She was getting voluptuous, to quite a pleasant extent, except for her belly, which was an actual _belly _now, full and round, but still quite soft to the touch. It was no longer capable of being tucked into her skirts, instead pushing the hem down, stretching her blouse, bobbing awkwardly, and making her start to look _pregnant_. Five months, by her guess.   
  
Her face was getting fuller as well. Chloe examined herself in her bathroom mirror one evening. She ran her fingers over her plumpening figure, shivering slightly as they slid over her sensitive breasts. She could hardly stand to put on any more weight. But even then, she could sense the voice thrumming, just below the surface of her consciousness, planning its next command.   
  
Chloe reluctantly left the bathroom and padded towards the kitchen, bulging somewhat from the undone buttons of her skirt, and suspecting that this was another article of clothing that she would not be able to squeeze into come the morning.   
  
She walked to her kitchen counter, and grabbed a banana from the bunch. It was starchy. It should suffice. She unpeeled it and took a bite, unconsciously cringing as she forced the fruit into her already-full stomach.   
  
She was confused by the command that followed.   
  
**Lower…**   
  
Chloe dropped her arm holding the banana in shock, the peeled fruit now level with her waist.   
  
**Mmm…**   
  
She stood there stunned, not understanding the noise at all. The voice seemed almost…human…lately.   
  
**Lower…**   
  
Chloe lowered the banana farther. She hesitated, and rested it on the table, somewhat relieved that she didn’t have to gorge herself anymore.   
  
**EATTT!!!** the voice screamed.   
  
Chloe nearly jumped. Shaking now, she quickly lifted the banana back to her lips, and munched.   
  
**Lower…lower…**   
  
Chloe couldn’t understand. The voice wanted the banana…lower? But not on the table? She experimentally waved the banana, eventually lowering it along the length of her body, from her waist to her hips.   
  
**Mmm…**   
  
This whole situation was insane. Chloe hesitated, and pushed down her skirt, groaning in relief as more of her body popped out, free of constriction. Breathing, she pushed the skirt down to the ground, and stepped out of it, so that now she stood there, in just her blouse and panties.   
  
**More…feed…lower…**   
  
Chloe shivered as a tingling iciness swept over her shoulders. Unthinkingly, she pushed down her panties, and aligned the banana with her groin.   
  
**Mmm…yes…**   
  
This was insanity! But the voice hummed its approval as Chloe spread her thighs. “You want me…to put it…” The voice did not respond, it just continued to hum.   
  
Chloe spread her vaginal lips and pressed the banana between them, shuddering as she did. She felt entirely ridiculous as she spread herself farther, and _pushed_, and was shocked when her opening easily _stretched_ to facilitate the passage of the banana, even though the banana should have logically been crushed. Instead it slipped easily inside of her, as Chloe groaned and fidgeted uncomfortably, pushing it as far as she could, until something inside of her seemed to…suck it up! Her eyes snapped open as the banana disappeared from the reach of even her longest finger. It was plain weird, and she was stunned.   
  
**Mooree…**   
  
_Oh god,_ Chloe thought, looking at the remainder of the bunch of bananas, still sitting on her counter. Taking a gulp, she reached out, detached one, and began to peel it, almost mechanically. She then repeated the process of _feeding _the fruit to her loins. With a grunt, she squatted down to give it easier access, feeling strange, and aroused, and as though, perhaps she should visit the hospital after all.   
  
Only when all of the bananas were gone, did the voice disappear. Panting a bit, Chloe clumsily climbed to her feet, feeling sore, and _wet_, and fully anticipating a horrid infection by morning time. She hesitated, before slipping her pointer finger into her loins, expecting to feel banana residue. But it was clean, except for her juices. There was no trace of what she had done to herself, except for a tingling soreness, and an uncomfortable tightness in her gut.


	3. Chapter 3

**Rub…**  
  
Chloe’s eyes snapped open. She looked around the room, slightly disoriented. She could tell it was morning, though it was still dark out.  
  
**Rub…** The voice’s vocabulary seemed to be increasing.  
  
_What?_ was all Chloe could think in her confusion, still trying to blink away the remnants of slumber. She rubbed her hands together, but the voice only became more insistent.  
  
**Rub…rub…**  
  
Chloe tried rubbing her hands over her arms. And then, slightly disgusted with herself, she approached her torso, starting with her shoulders, fingers kneading into the thin layer of recent weight gain.  
  
**Lower…**  
  
Lips thinning, Chloe rubbed her hands over her chest. She groaned as her fingers glided over her nipples, which had grown larger, and more sensitive in recent days. At present, they were erect, swollen, and sore, so she was quick to move her hands down to her bloated belly.  
  
**Mmmm…**  
  
Chloe continued to mechanically rub her stomach, oblivious of the logic behind the arbitrary instructions. But she knew that if she followed them, there was no screaming in her head, and no pain or coldness. So she continued to do as she was told. It was hardly a sacrifice.  
  
She rubbed her hands over the plump mound of fat that had become of her belly, the voice falling silent, but a contented humming filling her head. For some reason, she glided her fingers under her shirt, and up her chest. She gently fondled her breasts again. The voice didn’t complain. Chloe grunted slightly as she carefully stroked her hard, swollen nipples, deriving pleasure this time rather than pain.  
  
**Squeeze…** said the voice.  
  
Chloe reddened slightly, but cupped her breasts gently. She applied pressure, squeezing them in her grasp. Then she continued to rub them, and took her nipples between her fingers. She tentatively pressed, causing a sharp gasp to escape her throat.  
  
They were full C-cups. Maybe larger. By then, they were bulging from all her newest bras.  
  
Chloe didn’t mind the growth of her breasts too severely. They grew plumper and rounder, not sagging under their increased weight.  
  
The other changes, however, were rather, less welcome.  
  
Chloe climbed out of bed once the voice seemed satisfied with her compliance. She grabbed up her towel and headed to the bathroom to get washed.  
  
Over the next few days, she continued to eat in increasing amounts. And she continued to—be forced—to push food into her genitals. She didn’t know how it was even possible to consume food in such a way, or why it was somehow necessary. She just knew that when she pushed food into her vagina, and it disappeared inside of her, she was rewarded with the same sensation of fullness that she got when she swallowed food down her throat—perhaps even greater.  
  
The commands were keen and relentless, and Chloe found herself pushing meat balls, chocolate bars, sausages, and chunks of bread past her labia. On one occasion, she even jammed an entire roll of cookie dough into herself. It was disgusting, and slightly nauseating, as her belly tightened and the voice hummed in delight.  
  
“I would like to make a deposit,” said her first customer that morning.  
  
Chloe offered a weary smile and slid over a deposit slip.  
  
**Feed…** the voice ordered, causing Chloe to furrow her brows. It was still so early.  
  
As the customer continued to fill out a deposit slip, Chloe discreetly reached into her purse beneath the counter, and slid her hand into a box of donut holes she had picked up from a bakery that morning. She quickly stuffed one into her mouth, and gulped it down just before the client looked back up at her.  
  
“Thank you,” she said, accepting the slip and the check, and depositing it into the account. “And here is your receipt.”  
  
**Feed!** The voice was impatient.  
  
The client tottered off, and thankfully, no others followed. Chloe threw a quick glance around the bank, but none of her coworkers were paying attention to her. Jittery by then, she stuffed several more donut holes into her mouth, and chomped them down.  
  
**Lower.**  
  
Chloe nearly groaned. She pushed her chair back and grabbed her oversized purse, intending to head to the bathroom.  
  
“Taking a break already?” said her boss, Peter, who was passing. He stopped and raised his brow at her. “Everything alright, Chloe? You’ve been stepping out a lot lately.” His eyes flickered to her rounded belly.  
  
“No, erm…” Chloe returned to her seat. “I was just making sure I had enough receipt paper.” She opened a drawer and pretended to fumble around in it.  
  
Still giving her an intent look, Peter nodded, and walked off.  
  
By then, pulses of coldness were rolling down Chloe’s spine, and the voice’s commands had increased in intensity.  
  
**Feed…lower…feed…FEED…**  
  
Another customer arrived. “I would like to withdraw…” he rambled on, though Chloe could hardly seem to hear him.  
  
“Right,” said Chloe, trembling. Her head was pounding. With one hand, she typed on her computer, though she couldn’t say she was certain what she was doing. With her other hand, she reached back into her purse, now withdrawing a stick of string cheese from a large package.  
  
Thankfully, the counter offered a decent overhang to her lap, and no one was paying close attention to her anyway. Though it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. Chloe was feeling faint.  
  
As she continued to pretend to observe her computer screen, pressing buttons and mumbling something about an “error message,” Chloe discreetly slid her hand into the bottom of her skirt, hardly able to withhold a groan as the cool stick of cheese made contact with her tender groin.  
  
She was sore from the daily abuse from the varied foods she was forced to cram inside of her. And to her surprise, she was wet and tingling, her face flushing as the cheese stick slipped easily into her body.  
  
“Miss…” the customer was speaking, perhaps repeating himself after saying it several times already. “Miss? Are you alright?”  
  
Chloe shook herself, feeling only slightly more lucid. “Uhm…yes. Yes, fine, thanks,” she said politely, giving the customer a peculiar look, as though he was the odd one. She quickly opened the client’s account on her console and withdrew $200 from it. She placed it into an envelope and passed it over, praying it was the right amount.  
  
The customer didn’t even check. He was still looking strangely at her, like somehow he knew what she had been up to under the counter. Chloe’s cheeks darkened and the customer walked off, pocketing the money, still not bothering to count it.  
  
**More…more…** the voice pressed.  
  
Chloe withdrew two more cheese sticks from her purse. She spread her thighs and pressed them both in at once, this time. As a grunt managed to escape her throat, her colleague, Pam, sent a glare from the next window. Chloe could hardly care. The stabbing coldness slipped away from her spine, as did the sharpness of the voice on her temple. She rubbed it, despite herself, as she retrieved another two cheese sticks from her purse. And so the day proceeded.  
  
By the time Chloe got home that evening, she was full and exhausted. Her boss seemed especially wary of her, which had severely imposed on her ability to sneak off for extra breaks. The voice was more persistent than ever, and Chloe had found herself consistently fumbling under her skirt to stuff more food into her groin. By the end of the day, she had gone through the donut holes, the rest of the cheese sticks, and half a dozen hot dogs as well.  
  
She groaned in discomfort as her fingers made contact with her skin-tight blouse. She felt full and bloated, and even a little nauseous. She cringed as the voice returned, more potent than ever:  
  
**Feed…feed me…more…more…**  
  
_Me?_ Chloe wondered, as she dragged herself to the kitchen. Not for the first time, she wondered whether the voice was symptomatic of mental illness, or if it was somehow—_apart _from her. Though the “me” it implied must have been _herself_, her _own _commands, which seemed indicative of the former, and Chloe tried not to think about it.  
  
Either prospect was unpleasant, and she couldn’t deal with them right now. Instead, Chloe flung her fridge open, and immediately cursed under her breath.  
  
She had forgotten to go grocery shopping. She had been decidedly distracted. The only food she could spot was some old pasta, globs of mozzarella, some sticks of butter, and another roll of cookie dough.  
  
Chloe impatiently loaded the cheese, butter, and dough into her arms and puttered off to her bedroom, before the voice could get too severe. She dropped herself on her bed, wrinkling her nose as her belly and breasts jiggled seconds after her body had stilled. Shamelessly hiking her skirt up and spreading her legs wide, Chloe grabbed up a stick of butter, unwrapped it, and with a frustrated moan, began to shove it into her opening, her belly heaving, and legs trembling as the butter started to melt as it slid its way through.  
  
It took only moments for her to work through the three other butter sticks, and the fat loaf of cookie dough. By the time she had stuffed them into her, the voice had stopped its griping, so she ate the mozzarella by mouth.  
  
When she was finished, she laid there panting heavily, chest rising and falling, mounds wiggling. Diamonds of skin had begun to appear in her blouse buttons. Fingers trembling slightly, Chloe opened them one by one, allowing her rounded gut to surge through, plump and pressurized as it was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more of my stories, visit my **[DeviantArt gallery](https://www.deviantart.com/komperaklause).**
> 
> ** [Story Schedule](https://www.deviantart.com/komperaklause/journal/Story-Access-Schedule-572949651) **


	4. Chapter 4

Chloe tried her best to compensate at work for her frequent breaks and the voice’s continual demands. During her temporary reprieves from the voice, she put in bursts of effort so not to fall behind. Chloe also found herself staying late at the bank more often than not, volunteering to balance out the registers, participate in cleanup, and supervise the evening vault checks with the security team. She hoped that it showed a general picture of composure and attentiveness rather than the fluster and panic that she was truly experiencing.   
  
Chloe’s efforts seemed to backfire, however. “A—promotion?” she said in astonishment. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.   
  
“I’ve noticed all the hard work you’ve been putting in lately,” said her boss, Peter, who was seated opposite her behind his broad mahogany desk. “And you’ve always been frank about your aspirations to become a banker. I think it’s time.” Peter reached out, offering his hand.   
  
Ironically enough, this was the worst time that her promotion could have come through. Despite it, Chloe numbly reached out and accepted the handshake. Her knuckles rubbed together as Peter gripped her hand in what he probably assumed to be a confident manner, but just turned out being an unpleasant experience. He gave her hand a firm shake and let go.   
  
“We already moved you into Jim’s old office.”   
  
“Oh…right,” Chloe managed.   
  
“Keep up the good work.” Peter gave a curt nod, and Chloe climbed out of her chair, knowing that the meeting was over.   
  
Rather than checking out her inherited office, Chloe felt her body carrying her outside. She walked down the sidewalk into an alcove on the side of the building that was surrounded by hedges intended to hide some pipes from view. Her coworker, Parker, was there, taking a cigarette break. Chloe leaned on the wall and stared blankly at the way her rounded belly bloated out over the waistband of her pants making her look as though she was six months _with child_. It wouldn’t be long before the voice was active again.   
  
“Smoke?” said Parker, holding out his box of cigarettes.   
  
“Um…no…thanks,” said Chloe. She didn’t mention how the last time she had indulged in the occasional habit had resulted in the voice screaming in protest, causing her head to feel like it might split in two.   
  
She took a few more deep breaths of the cool air, before pushing herself off the wall and going back inside.   
  
Over the next few days, Chloe was immersed in client meetings as she slowly adapted to her increase in responsibilities. The voice was keener than ever, and Chloe was reluctantly relieved to find that having her own desk offered the added benefit of discretion when the voice began its frequent demands.   
  
Her belly was low, plump, and round, squishing against her lap when she sat down. Sometimes Chloe could feel her coworkers staring at her increasingly taut shirts and blouses, though they proved too polite to inquire about her rapid weight gain.   
  
Her breasts had gotten very bloated and full. Uncomfortable and _tingly_. Lately they felt sore, and her nipples were positively _aching_.   
  
She was growing and growing, but doing her best to adapt to her unusual circumstances.   
  
One morning Chloe was hosting a client breakfast in one of the meeting rooms at the bank. She was wearing a pencil skirt, the waist jammed down, to make way for her rounded abdomen. It was uncomfortable, but not enough to distract her from her work duties; she wanted to get the meeting over with quickly. She ran her hand over her blouse. It was a newer purchase, but already quite tight at her chest and stomach. She hated how evident it made her bloated profile the way it was tucked into her skirt, though the alternative was the risk of her belly peeking out under the hem during her movements about the room.   
  
She just hoped it wasn’t too obvious that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her breasts had rapidly surged to D-cups and had outgrown all her bras. The supportive wear had become uncomfortable anyway, her breasts far too tender now to tolerate being compressed in the slightest. Her mounds were continuously sweaty, nipples hard and swollen and almost unnaturally erect. She was sure that they stuck out in the shirt, where they rubbed rousingly on the restrictive cotton. She just hoped that the customers were too polite to take notice.   
  
Some of the clients seemed to think she was pregnant, as evidenced by Ms. Greene inquiring about how far along Chloe was. Chloe blushed and pretended not to understand the question. She quickly passed out leaflets and started the projector, before going over the benefits of varying business accounts.   
  
As Chloe presented, the clients munched on eggs, bacon, bagels, cream cheese, donuts, sausages, fruits, and a variety of other delicious breakfast foods on an elaborate spread in the center of the meeting table.   
  
Chloe tried not to pay the food any mind, though she could feel her innards beginning to thrum, as though agitated. She did her best to ignore it, and continued the presentation, more hurriedly.   
  
**Hungry…** the voice said, finally.   
  
It was a new word in its vocabulary, and spoken in a rather elegant, possibly even _female _voice. Chloe was so stunned, she stopped mid-sentence. When Mr. Cortez cleared his throat in the otherwise silent room, Chloe immediately regained herself, and tried to remember where she had left off. “So, uhm, in conclusion, I’d like to welcome you to explore the lucrative investment options offered to our more loyal customers, such as yourself. Any questions?” She hoped there would be no questions. To her dismay, Mrs. Rivington raised her hand.   
  
**Hungry…must eat… You. Must. Eat…**   
  
After barely hearing Mrs. Rivington’s query, Chloe rambled on, hoping that she was somehow addressing the question. She could feel the coldness beginning to trickle down her spine, slow and steady. Her mind was throbbing. She needed to wrap this up.   
  
“Since there are no more inquiries,” said Chloe, blatantly ignoring the clients who did look like they had something to say, “I would like to thank you all for coming. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”   
  
As the clients filtered out of the room, taking their time, Chloe shook their hands one by one, and kept to monosyllabic responses when they tried to start conversation with her.   
  
**Need food. Need food NOW!**   
  
When the last client was finally gone, Chloe was trembling. She had snacks in her office. She just needed to get there.   
  
Chloe made for the door, but a sharp pain shot through her skull, making her reel slightly. She couldn’t walk through the bank in such a sorry state.   
  
Instead Chloe dizzily closed the blinds and locked the door. She staggered to the table, hoping there was something to salvage, at least until she could get back to her office and the cover of her desk.   
  
**EAT!!!**   
  
Chloe shuddered, and blinked a few times. She was stunned that there was nothing left of the breakfast spread. Well, nothing, except for an ear of corn that seemed more of a decorative display than something intended to eat for breakfast.   
  
Just looking at the uncut corn made her wince, but Chloe grabbed it up, desperate by then. She collapsed to her knees and dropped to her back on the uncomfortable rug, partially shielded by the meeting table. She drew her knees up.   
  
**EAT…EAT…MUST…EAT…**   
  
Chloe cupped one of her breasts, groaning at how _full _it felt, both mounds now pulling hard on her shirt buttons due to her position supine there on the ground. With her free hand, she desperately undid her skirt, slipped her hand into her panties, and stroked herself. To her relief she was already wet. Was she getting _off_ on this? Another shudder accompanied the ice cold pain twisting at her insides.   
  
**MUST…MUST…EAT…NOW…**   
  
The voice’s little eloquence was gone in lieu of a pressing urgency. Chloe’s thighs trembled as she wigged out of her panties, her vision going in and out from the explosive pains reverberating in her head. She slid the corn’s tapered end to her entrance, squeezed her eyes shut, and pushed it in.   
  
Despite seeming decorative, the corn was cooked to her relief, which was more than she could have hoped for.   
  
Chloe groaned quietly as she pushed harder, feeling herself stretch painfully, until her eyes began to tear. She rocked her hips compulsively as the corn pushed farther and farther through her opening. Soon her fingers had dipped through her labia, and the end of the corn disappeared, as food usually did, slipping inside her, as though being sucked by some internal force.   
  
**Good…** the voice praised. **Good…**   
  
Chloe lay there gasping, holding her belly, which felt congruently firm. She could swear she looked seven months pregnant by then. She remained sprawled there, legs spread and groin seeping. She jerked at the sound of a knock on the door.   
  
“Chloe? Do you need any help with clean-up?” her coworker, Frank, called. He rattled the doorknob.   
  
“No!” Chloe gasped out, scrambling to fix her skirt. She forced herself back to her feet, hastily tidied up the table, and opened the door. It was only when she returned to her office that she noticed that the stretched fabric between her blouse buttons had been spread to reveal the plump flesh within. 


	5. Chapter 5

As the days passed, Chloe tried to be as compliant as possible. She preemptively stuffed herself before work and during her breaks. She could barely spare the energy it took to eat by mouth anymore. The voice seemed to far prefer food consumed via her groin, though it hardly made sense how she could survive in such a way.  
  
Chloe panted in bed one night, where she lay supine with her knees drawn up. Her legs were spread wide, and she had just finished a large evening feeding, in hopes to stave off the voice for long enough that she could get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.  
  
She grunted as she sat upright, her rounded belly squashing against her lap. It was getting larger and larger. Since she’d just had a feeding, her belly was firm and tight. Chloe absently rubbed her hand against the side of the mound. She looked as though she was _eight months pregnant_.  
  
But as she tried to make sense of this, her mind went numb, as it usually did. As with the presence of the voice in her head, and the consumption of food via her groin, Chloe’s localized weight gain was another thing she just didn’t want to confront.  
  
Her face was flushed slightly, her forehead moist, errant strands of hair falling to stick to her face. She feebly tugged down her silk nightgown to cover up her groin, and her eyes were drawn to how tight the previously-loose material was at her midsection, and how her round breasts bulged over the low neckline, as they never had before. A full line of cleavage was perched directly in her sight, and her breasts were so full and round, they were nearly popping out.  
  
As Chloe shifted, she groaned when the fabric of the gown slid over her enlarged nipples. She took a shuddering breath, lightly shook her head, and cupped the underside of her belly.  
  
With another grunt, Chloe stood, her back twinging. She yelped at an unfamiliar sensation, and both her hands flew to her navel. What they encountered made her mouth fall open. Her belly button had _popped out_. She stared and blankly rubbed the new protrusion.  
  
_This isn’t normal. _The thought crossed Chloe’s mind. Even weight gain didn’t result in that.  
  
She allowed her hands to glide all over the swell of her low abdomen. She wasn’t sure exactly when it had _pushed out_, no longer just some weight, but something independent, and blatant, that couldn’t be dismissed as fat. It was starting to get heavy and uncomfortable walking around with it attached to her. When it was in the softer stages, it would bob somewhat, disharmonious with her body, until she stuffed herself all over again.  
  
_Maybe a girdle?_ Chloe supposed, perpetually addressing her symptoms and not the actual problem.  
  
On some level, she still believed she was just imagining everything. The voice, the feedings, the rapidly increasing weight—there was no way any of it made sense if it wasn’t imaginary.  
  
And if all this was imagined, was it necessarily a bad thing? She wasn’t a danger to herself or others. She was thriving at work.  
  
“Imagined,” Chloe mused aloud, as she made her way to the light switch. She noticed her gait was more _swingy _than usual, but she bit her lip, and elected to ignore it.  
  
She turned the light off and sunk back into bed, closing her eyes, and continuing to run her hands over her imagined belly.  
  
**Mmmm…** said the voice. Lately it was quite pleased and encouraging. **Almost loving. Soo good. You are a good host…**  
  
Though the increasing eloquence could be a shock at times, it was also sort of comforting. Chloe released a sigh as she drifted off. It was certainly a welcome alternative to the aggressive outbursts.  
  
She could live with this.  
  
-  
  
When Chloe was at work, she assumed her usual routine of diligent working intermingled with clandestine feedings, all while ignoring the stares, because those, too, were certainly just figments of her imagination.  
  
She sat behind her desk that afternoon, attempting to read a file, and absently rubbing her knees together. She was getting antsy. Was it close to feeding time? Chloe glanced at her watch. No, she had just done one twenty minutes ago.  
  
“Mmmgh…” She grunted, shifting somewhat. Everything felt odd, and uncomfortable, and…_warm_. She felt like something was happening…or _going _to happen. Chloe leaned back, eyes shut. Her heart was racing for some reason.  
  
Chloe forced herself up and walked across the office, ignoring the way she now waddled slightly. She closed the blinds and returned to her desk, standing before it, arching her sore back.  
  
Her breasts were uncomfortable and _tight_, nipples aching, dull but irritating. She absently unbuttoned the top buttons of her blouse, and felt as though she needed to loosen her bra. Belatedly, she realized that she wasn’t wearing one.  
  
She glanced down at the white cotton material of her blouse. It looked tighter on her than it had that morning, which didn’t seem very unusual for her these days. Only today the material was moist with sweat, and seemed to be _pasted _to her breasts, confining them almost _painfully_. The material was stretchy, but seemed to have exhausted its capacity for her body. The mounds on her chest were easily _E-cups_ by then, round and fat, without even a hint of sagging.  
  
Chloe breathed heavily, her chest heaving up and down. She just had to get through the day, that was all.  
  
She marvelled at how low her belly looked, with her breasts so perk and high on her chest. Beneath them were several inches of flat skin over her ribs, before her skin bloated out again, giving way to her large abdomen which was practically bulging out from the bottom of her maternity shirt. She could no longer hope to tuck the blouse into her pencil skirt by then.  
  
Chloe continued to breathe deeply, in and out. This was all in her head. She just needed to calm down.  
  
She released a sharp gasp when her breasts seemed to tighten slightly, the shirt growing unbearably confining. Now she could see her areola and the pink splotches of her nipples against the moistening material as it struggled to contain her bloating, figment of a condition.  
  
“Ohhh…” Chloe groaned out, hunching slightly and gripping her desk.  
  
**Rub…** The voice ordered.** Rub them.**  
  
Knowing exactly what the voice wanted, Chloe hesitated, before raising her free hand to her chest. She whimpered in discomfort as she rubbed her breasts tenderly, raising her opposite hand to simultaneously kneed both mounds, groaning and reddening as she did. Despite her care, she seemed to trigger something.  
  
“Nrrghhhh…” Chloe stumbled back, her skin seeming to ignite, growing hotter and hotter. By instinct, she thrust her chest out, causing the blouse to tear, buttons popping across the room. Her mounds burst free, bobbing and throbbing, nipples distending visibly, breasts trembling as they tightened. She whimpered in fear.  
  
“Ahhhh!” Chloe cried as her nipples began to simultaneously squirt thin streams of milk. Gasping for breath, she stared down at herself. “Oh…” she stammered, momentarily nonplussed. She reached across her desk, fumbling to grasp onto the tissue box. “No, no, no…”  
  
**Yes, **the voice defied her with clear pleasure. **Your body is preparing.**  
  
“P-preparing?” said Chloe, as she clumsily applied tissue to her tender, leaking nipples. “Preparing for what?” She watched her swollen—_engorged_—breasts visibly pulse. _Oh god._  
  
And then Chloe froze, and felt like she could hit herself. Why was she talking to the voice? She feebly attempted to pull her blouse back around her, but it seemed like it was several sizes too small.  
  
**You did well, Chloe,** said the voice, as Chloe gulped. The voice _knew her name!?_  
  
“Oh?” Chloe managed, despite herself, her words still quavering.  
  
**Because of you, I have grown strong,** the voice continued. **To put it in terms you might understand, I am now the size of an orange. The energy from your fat stores has allowed me to develop quite impressively. And thrive. In fact, it is almost time to start laying my eggs.**  
  
“What!?” said Chloe. Her legs shuddered. She somehow dragged herself to her desk, and plopped down, wincing slightly. Her breasts wobbled up and down, now releasing persistent droplets that rolled down her belly.  
  
**It is all due to your hard work,** the voice commended her, its voice slightly strained now. **And now I have…mmm…quite the heavy litter.**  
  
“Wait—stop!” said Chloe, completely disconcerted. There was talk of egg-laying, and she didn’t know what that entailed. She didn’t even know what was real and what wasn’t anymore. The size of an orange? Where!? _Inside of her!?_  
  
**Ahhhh,** the voice groaned. **Here’s…the first…**  
  
“Errghh…” Chloe grunted as her belly abruptly tightened, her remaining buttons straining to contain her. The blouse slid upwards and her back arched as her face reddened, and she fidgeted helplessly. She could physically see her belly pushing out by an inch or so.  
  
The growth spurt ended just as quickly as it began, and left Chloe slumping in her chair trying to catch her breath.  
  
**You must not resist…**  
  
She felt fuller, _tighter_, as though she had just eaten several times the usual amount. She needed to get out. She needed to—_escape _the voice somehow. Irrational and disoriented, Chloe grasped her desktop and stood.  
  
“Ngghhhh…” She hunched, gripping her gut as it tightened again. It shuddered forward, popping completely free of her blouse. It heaved rapidly up and down with Chloe’s heavy breathing. She now looked as though she was nine months pregnant.  
  
**Mmm…that’s two,** said the voice thickly. **You’re so plump and pliable. So full of energy.**  
  
“W-what are you doing to me?” wheezed Chloe, still clutching her gut.  
  
**Each of my young is about the size of my own body,** the voice explained. **Oh, you’re such a good host, Chloe. Brace yourself. Here comes another.**  
  
“No, please don—nnrrghhh!” Her belly filled with pressure, now flushed and sweaty. Chloe leaned heavily on her desk as she whimpered and tried to bear it. Her belly button swelled unnaturally, pushing out to the size of a chestnut. She was getting _too tight_. She feared that she might burst.  
  
**Oh you’ll get to feed soon enough, Chloe. After we’re done here, we’ll get you nice and soft.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more of my stories, visit my **[DeviantArt gallery](https://www.deviantart.com/komperaklause).**
> 
> ** [Story Schedule](https://www.deviantart.com/komperaklause/journal/Story-Access-Schedule-572949651) **


	6. Chapter 6

**You should relax, human. Enjoy. Carrying me and my young should be a comforting experience.**   
  
In her panic, Chloe grabbed her blazer off the back of her chair, and did her best to pull it around her swelling body—it was no use. She gasped for breath and thought for several moments, before remembering the baggy T-shirt she usually kept for company picnics and other events. Wobbling over to her filing cabinet, Chloe opened a drawer and pulled out the green shirt with the company logo. She shrugged out of the remains of her blouse, and hurriedly jerked the T-shirt over her head.   
  
Some of her belly protruded from the bottom of the tightly-stretched material. Chloe did her best to tug it down, and she waddled for the door.   
  
She had almost made her way out of the building, when a large hand connected with her shoulder.   
  
“Great job on the Felder account.”   
  
Chloe stood stiffly as her boss, Peter, spoke behind her.   
  
“Chloe?”   
  
Four… the voice groaned.   
  
Chloe did her best not to groan as well. She shuddered as she gripped her tightening mass with one hand, still tugging down the shirt with the other. Doing her best to contain her gasps for breath, she slowly managed to revolve to face her boss.   
  
Peter’s eyes widened almost comically. His lips fell apart. He mouthed for words, but couldn’t seem to get anything out. Finally he managed, “You look—erm—well, great job.” He awkwardly nodded, though his gaze never left her throbbing abdomen as sweat seeped into her shirt.   
  
“Thanks,” Chloe forced out, feeling immensely exhausted. Her eyes widened as her nipples began to sting again, and she quickly raised one of her arms to cover her chest. “I think I’m going to head out. I’m n-not feeling that great,” she managed, knowing that she was flushed, sweaty, and probably looked like a mess.   
  
Peter continued to mechanically nod. She wasn’t sure if he had ever stopped. “Right…right, of course. Feel better.”   
  
Chloe nodded back, turned around, and waddled as fast as she could for the door.   
  
“Nrrrggh…” she grunted, as the pressure pushed her belly out another two inches. It swayed with her awkward movements, and her skin prickled about her navel.   
  
**I’m tiring, but there are still morrreeee…**   
  
“Ohhh,” Chloe choked, nearly slumping over as she reached her car door. She gripped the hood and held on for dear life. “Just…ohhh…just let me sit down.”   
  
This in itself wasn’t an easy process. She felt that with the wrong move her midriff might explode. But soon Chloe found herself seated, leaned back, her heaving belly consistently pressing into the steering wheel. She looked overdue by then. She knew another egg was about to develop. She could feel the pressure growing, slow and steady. “Aahhhhh!” She arched her back, causing her belly to press harder into the steering wheel as she grew. Her T-shirt had developed damp spots over both breasts by then, her unusually large nipples visibly protruding in the tight, wet material, which, in turn, was dripping milk.   
  
When the spurt ended, Chloe sank against her seat, tossing her head left and right, feeling helpless. “Six?” she squeaked.   
  
**I’ll weaken in the coming days,** the voice murmured. **Afterwards, they will be your responsibility.**   
  
“But I can’t,” Chloe whined. “I’m not meant to—ohhhh…” She twisted and fidgeted somewhat, cupping her navel gently as it trembled.   
  
**Calm yourself child.** The voice sounded weak. **I cannot speak to you for much longer. This was a terrible strain. Why don’t you help the process along…and eat…**   
  
“C-can’t—” Chloe protested. “I’m already _so tight!_”   
  
**Eat…**   
  
Chloe whined and opened her glove compartment. She found a bag of chocolate bars, and she fumbled awkwardly, as it was more difficult than ever to reach her groin now that she was so large. “Hurts,” she whimpered, as she maneuvered the first bar of chocolate into her opening.   
  
**Don’t lie,** the voice hissed. **It is only pressure.**   
  
Feeling as graceful as a hippopotamus, Chloe managed to insert one chocolate bar after another, until all eight had been jammed into her groin. The voice had claimed that food would help alleviate the tension, but she only felt worse. Tighter, heavier, more burdened than before. By then, she was gasping, and felt faint.   
  
**More…** the voice commanded.   
  
Chloe weakly nodded, though she knew she was almost out of food. With trembling fingers, she dug into her purse and withdrew her keys, before starting the car. “I’m going, I’m going…” she murmured as she drove off, having to lean uncomfortably against her compacted mound to reach her steering wheel, given how much she had grown.   
  
Her nipples ached and seeped more than ever as they were squished against the tight mass of her belly. She had relinquished her efforts to tug down her shirt, and the hem had slid up over her impressively-swollen belly button.   
  
Chloe did her best to pacify the voice, which seemed agitated now. At red lights, she would dig the odd snack out of her purse—usually a cheese stick—and hurriedly navigate it into her opening. But she could tell that the voice was still displeased. It wanted more this time—_much _more. Chloe cradled her belly and drove as fast as she dared, all while mumbling assurances, to herself and to the voice.   
  
It was only ten minutes before Chloe reached the drive-thru, by which point she could already feel the pulses of icy pain throbbing in the back of her head. The voice thrummed impatiently in her consciousness, wanting to feed its—its _eggs_, or whatever they were. Chloe gasped out her order into the microphone, before speeding off to the pick-up window, narrowly avoiding rear-ending another car in the process.   
  
She had chosen a restaurant that was both close by and convenient to her purpose. Bob’s Hot Dogs. Chloe practically salivated over the five bulging bags of weiners the baffled employee was holding as she handed him some bills.   
  
Chloe drove one-handedly, her free hand digging through the fifty individually-wrapped hot dogs, separating them from their buns, and pushing the thick pink sausages directly into her vagina. She could feel the sense that she was still growing, but it wasn’t as horrifying or uncomfortable as before. After Chloe pulled into her driveway, she leaned her seat back more, and continued to feed her groin. She licked her lips, and watched her fat breasts bob on her chest as one hotdog after the next was shoved into her sopping opening.   
  
Her eyes went wide as her loins throbbed, a hoarse grunt escaping her lips as electricity coursed through her body. The sensation shot from her groin to her belly then battered her nerve endings, filling her body with raw, hot pleasure until her vision blurred.   
  
And then there was only blackness.   
  
\-   
  
When Chloe awoke, her hips felt tight. Her groin held an uncomfortable pain, and Chloe’s first instinct told her that something too large was inside of her. Was this an awkward hook-up? Or—_ohh_—a food product? “Errghh…” She wriggled and pushed, still only partially conscious.   
  
**Do not release them.**   
  
“What…?” Chloe opened her eyes and blinked a few times to notice that she was still sprawled in her car, only it was dark outside now. She gasped as she took notice of the large ball perched against her, gently throbbing as though it was _alive_. It was uncomfortably squished against her steering wheel, and with some struggle, Chloe pushed her seat back the remaining three inches that it could go. This left her belly still snugly pressing the steering wheel, which was now out of reach of her arms.   
  
“Mggghhh…” Her hips bucked despite her weight, almost by instinct. She felt as though something was—lodged—inside of her opening. “Ohhh god…” she moaned, her body quivering, seeping. Her face heated.   
  
**Don’t you dare.**   
  
“Why?” Chloe grunted, flushed, rocking, as something pushed, _crowned _in her labia. She released a grasp, and spread her thighs the best she could. She gripped her arm rest, struggling for leverage.   
  
**There will be consequences.**   
  
The waves of coldness were back, as was the drilling pain in her head, and Chloe was at a loss of which of her problems were the most excruciating.   
  
**I will fill you with twice as many if any harm comes to even one of my children. I will ensure that you burst!**   
  
Chloe’s breasts jiggled as she panted. Something was _coming out of her_, something that _didn’t belong_. And yet, she had no choice but to abide by the voice’s commands. She reached down and navigated her hand to her crotch. Her fingers traced over her swollen lips, between which bulged a hard, rounded—egg-like—object. A sob tore from Chloe’s lips, but she pushed at the intrusive mass, pushed it back _inside _of her. She choked in pain, her hips aching, her insides feeling as though they were tearing apart. She cried out as she shoved the mass as far as it could go. Her belly pulsed more pronouncedly for several beats as she tried to orient herself.   
  
Chloe laid there in the dark, releasing sharp gasps for a while. She clamped her thighs shut by impulse even though they were going numb. “What now?” she croaked. “When will I be allowed to d-deliver?”   
  
But the voice had gone silent, and despite her burden, Chloe had never felt so alone. 


	7. Chapter 7

She looked as though she was overdue with twins, on the verge of dropping, and should have been on bedrest—certainly not going to work, struggling through the usual office monotony, smiling flippantly but crying internally.  
  
People would stare at her, but Chloe did her best to ignore it.  
  
She tried not to think about the numerous eggs presently incubating inside of her, or how the voice offered its commands, but now infrequently, and sounding terribly weak. Chloe tried not to think about how she now snuck off, to push food into her groin, _of her own volition_, because she could no longer imagine the prospect of feeding herself in any other capacity.  
  
And she tried not to think about the fact that she was still steadily _growing_, and she had gone from looking as though she was overdue with twins to triplets in only a matter of days. How she struggled about clutching her increasingly swollen girth as people ogled her, almost as though in fear.  
  
She could barely fit into the bathroom stalls at work, but Chloe just managed. She leaned back on the door, panting, her breasts gently bobbing. Her nipples seeped milk continuously, and she had to change the padding of her maternity bra several times throughout the day now. Her belly was hot, and had the perpetual sense that it was _pulsating_. She was constantly exhausted. Sometimes she could barely catch her breath.  
  
“What do I do?” she whispered feebly, for once, seeking the voice out for guidance.  
  
But again, only silence answered. And it frightened her. The voice had been mute for days now—it had never been silent for this long. Something about the silence was profound and overwhelming. There was an absence where something had been blatantly _present _for so long. Chloe closed her eyes and breathed through her anxiety.  
  
She rubbed the sides of her mass, her stretched blouse sticking to her sweaty body.  
  
It seemed like an appropriate time to give up. To lay down at home, and wait for whatever was meant to happen to happen. But she refused. She cared about her life, and her career, and would not just throw it away. Where would she be now if she had been supine in the first place? She was certain the voice would have managed to split her head open by now, if judging by the relentless pressure and pain it routinely dealt in her skull.  
  
But Chloe was alone now, and lost to her next move. Should she just go ahead and birth the eggs? Would there be consequences? What if the voice returned with malice? What if it owned up to the threat to _bursting _her?  
  
_I’m on that track either way…_ Chloe mused, continuing to survey her taut belly, her face blank.  
  
There was also the concern that she _couldn’t_ give birth anymore. The egg had been exceedingly tight in her opening when it had begun to crown several days before, and she had only grown since then. She didn’t even _feel_ the compulsion to push anymore. Then again, she hadn’t tried, had she? Chloe sighed and closed her eyes.  
  
She knew that she should consider finally going to the hospital, but that option was just as precarious as all the others. The voice could retaliate from a hospital birth, just as it could if she managed to give birth on her own. And with a hospital, there was the added threat of shock, disgust, and media coverage. She could become a pariah, or worse, a lab experiment.  
  
So Chloe stood there, continuing to absently stroke her mass. She hissed out as her belly button twitched, her face reddening in her discomfort. She waited, but things seemed to calm down again. Everything was alright. Chloe heaved a sigh.  
  
-  
  
Over the weekend, Chloe took a cab back up to her family’s lake house, the wary driver periodically glancing back at her through the rearview mirror.  
  
She could barely waddle her way up the drive, by which point she was huffing and puffing, sweat-drenched and lactating profusely.  
  
She dumped her purse in the threshold of the cabin, then exited again, and headed directly for the lake.  
  
She was dressed in a yellow sundress, in fact, the largest maternity sundress she could find. The fabric was pasted against her swollen F-cup breasts, which were bulging against the low neckline, cleavage flushed. The material was cinched above her belly and beneath her breasts, before her swollen abdomen bulged out heavily beneath the skirt, which should have been knee-length.  
  
She was wearing black leggings, which preserved what little she could of her modesty. It took Chloe a lot of careful maneuvering to ease herself down on the grass beside the lake.  
  
The water looked normal today.  
  
She panted heavily. She looked overdue with quads by then, not that she was certain what that even looked like. She just felt huge, as though she was attached to an overfilled beach ball. Her thighs were already going numb beneath her girth.  
  
By some strange compulsion, Chloe fidgeted somewhat, easing herself toward the shore, and the water seemed to draw her in.  
  
Soon she was immersed in the cool, refreshing lake. The surface began to almost glow a faint…purple. She stared at it. Her face flushed when her belly suddenly tightened. “Nnghh!”  
  
A contraction.  
  
Things were moving rapidly. She could feel an egg pushing toward her opening, _bigger_, and more painful than the last time. She clamped her legs shut by instinct. What if she wasn’t supposed to? She needed to get out!  
  
But attempting to exit the lake was futile. She was too large, too ungainly. She would never be able to climb back up the slippery banks without some sort of aid.  
  
Her stomach was shuddering and aching, the egg _pushing_, and Chloe thoughtlessly reached down, quickly clamping her hand over her opening.  
  
“Tell me what to do,” she groaned out, breasts hot and throbbing, the top of her dress beginning to tear. “What do I—ohhhh…!” Her hips bucked automatically. It was stretching her, _splitting her apart_. “Mgggghhh!”  
  
And just before the egg could force its way free, she sensed it.  
  
The presence had returned.  
  
**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more of my stories, visit my **[DeviantArt gallery](https://www.deviantart.com/komperaklause).**
> 
> ** [Story Schedule](https://www.deviantart.com/komperaklause/journal/Story-Access-Schedule-572949651) **


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